The Winged Man's vow (part two of Secrets and Lies
by smaugholmeswatson
Summary: With the Hunters gone life goes back to normal for John and Sherlock but it isn't long before more than just winged humans appear from the shadowed corners of London's darkest secrets, secrets that will prove to be very close to home. Contains violence, wing-lock and shape-shifting. Probably best if you read 'The Winged Man's Burden' first.


'I will never let anything happen to you John.' I grit my teeth. 'Talk about famous last words' I think. Once more I scan the note I'd found flapping feebly under the door knocker when I arrived home. Of course the words haven't changed. The note is short and reads, "We have John Watson, meet us on top of the houses of Parliament at midnight or he dies." My hand contracts, crushing the note, and I hurl it against the wall with a cry of anger. All I had wanted to keep John safe from my world but that had all gone rapidly downhill when he had revealed he was a winged human like me. I groan. Damn this is all my fault, if only I had been here when he had been kidnapped I might have been able to do something. If he gets hurt it will be all my fault. The next moment anger floods through me. If John gets hurt I will kill the people responsible.

The clock behind me chimes eleven; only an hour to go until I have to face the newest group wishing to take me on. For a moment I consider taking Lestrade with me as official police back up but since I have no idea what the people I am going to meet are like it is probably best if I leave him out of it. Too many people have died already trying to protect me. Confused thoughts churning in my head I pace around the living room, neatly avoiding the piles of books leaving precariously which currently take up most of the available floor space. A slight smile twitches up the corner of my mouth at the memory of John stomping around yelling at me to put them away on the shelves. John... my face falls again.

I know for a fact that the kidnappers can not be Hunters because every last remaining one has been rounded up and put in prison which means (much as I dislike to admit it because normally I am always right) these people are a completely new threat I haven't yet come across. I have to admit that the thought does unnerve me slightly and I have to shake my head to clear it of all the negative thoughts that have somehow crept in when I wasn't looking. If I continue to worry like this I will be unable to come up with a decent plan for helping John and myself against whoever has a grudge against me this week. I glance at the clock and am shocked to see that almost twenty minutes has passed since it chimed the hour. I curse quietly under my breath. I need to get going if I am to make it to the meeting place for midnight. Going over to the window I push it open and squeeze awkwardly out because it is not easy to fit through tight gaps when you have wings. Outside I balance on the window sill and close my eyes, remembering the time last week when John and I had been forced to flee 221B to escape my brother and the Hunters under his command. I exhale sharply at the sudden pain which briefly overwhelms me (obviously I am not yet over Mycroft's death) and open my eyes. Beneath me London is a blur of brilliant light which pulses with life despite the lateness of the hour. Above the light the sky is pitch black which is good because it means no curious passer by will be able to spot me or follow me to where I am going.

Carefully I stretch out my wings to their full extent, marveling at how the pure white feathers glow eerily in the orange light of the street lamps, before stepping forward into empty air. Instinctively my wings beat several times to keep me airborne and I rise up, enjoying the familiar feeling of weightlessness that I experience every time I first life off. Once I am high enough for London to be spread out beneath me like a living map I hover long enough to gain my bearings. Over to my right I see the glowing outline of the Houses of Parliament framed against the cold blackness of the surrounding sky and river. I bank and head towards it, uncomfortably aware of Big Ben showing the time to be ten to twelve. Even if I fly flat out I am only just going to make it. I beat my wings harder, feeling the strain in my shoulders, and I soon find myself soaring out over the waves of the river Thames. Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament rise before me and I shoot upward, angling towards the roof of the parliament buildings beside it. I land lightly and tuck my wings against my back.

As soon as I touch down I look around me for traps or ambushes but am unable to spot anything obvious. Hopefully that means that the kidnappers will face me themselves. There is no sign of John either. Behind me Big Ben chimes out the first strike of twelve. As the bongs die away I hear a faint scuffling noise behind me and I tense, slowly turning to face whoever is there. Walking towards me are three men with leathery red wings, reminiscent of a dragon, curled over their shoulders with one dragging John behind him with a rope around his neck. My fists clench.

John looks scruffy and has a split lip and an impressive black eye. A quiet snarl escapes me and it takes all the self control I possess not to attack them. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm myself. These men are going to pay for their mistreatment of John. The three of them stop about a meter away from me and the one holding the rope gives it a sharp tug that forces John to his knees. One of them, probably the leader judging by the way the other two back away slightly as though they are afraid to get too close to him, steps froward. He grins, one side of his mouth twitching beneath a messy scar running from the corner of his left eye to his throat, at me and I shiver runs down my spine at the coldness in his expression.

"Well, well if it isn't Mr Holmes. So nice of you to agree to meet me." He drawls in a gravelly voice. The two men behind him snicker quietly to themselves.

I glance at John but he still shows no sign of having noticed I am there. God knows what these men have done to him to cause him to be like this. Whatever it was it must have been bad. "What do you want? It had better be good for a midnight meeting and a kidnapping." I say, glaring at the man before him. He doesn't seem particularly phased and smiles at me in response. My wings hang loosely down behind me in case I need to make a quick getaway. "Who are you?"

The man's smile grows wide, revealing teeth with sharp points that give him an reptilian quality. "My name is Sebastian Moran, second in command to the Master of the city who wishes to make a proposal to you. He sent me to tell you of his offer and to take back word of your acceptance." He says, his eyes glinting orange.

I let out a quiet snort, unimpressed. "He's rather confident. What happens if I say no?"

Moran gestures with his hand. The man holding the end of the rope nods in acknowledgment of the order and gives it a harsh tug. John gasps and clutches at his neck in panic as his air is cut off. "I can be very persuasive when I want to be Mr Holmes. Besides it would such a shame if I was forced to hurt John Watson."

Finally John looks up at me with a pleading look on his face and I give him what I hope is an reassuring smile in return. It probably looks more like a grimace but remaining calm in situations like this is difficult. "And what is this proposal that the Master is so eager for me to agree to?" I inquire, all the while trying to figure out a way to get John and I out of this alive.

"It's very simple." Moran says with a faint hiss. His tongue flicks out and I am not surprised to see that it is forked. "All the Master wants is for you to join him, to serve him by using your remarkable talents for solving crime to commit it. With you beside him he would be unstoppable. Think of it Mr Holmes- the power you would have at your fingertips." Moran's voice is persuasive as he looks at me with his head to one side.

What is being offered is extremely tempting but I can never accept it. Mycroft had died in order to keep me safe and if I joined forces with the criminal mastermind of London I will be making everything he did worthless. I breathe in deeply, pretending to consider the offer and glance at John whose eyes are wide and fixed on me. John will never forgive me if I agree. With a sigh I turn to face Moran. "No, I do not accept the offer. Tell the Master that Sherlock Holmes will not be corrupted so easily.

Moran hisses angrily and flexes his hands which are suddenly beginning to look rather claw like. "Are you absolutely sure Mr Holmes? This will be your only chance, the Master doesn't repeat such generous offers." He takes another step forward until he is inches away from me.

I look him squarely in the eye, managing not to flinch at the red glint I see there. Moran and his companions are not winged humans, they are much too... animal for that. "My mind is made up. I will not work with the Master of the city." I say with barely a shake in my voice, (a small victory but a victory none the less).

Moran shrugs, his leathery wings unfurling slightly. "Very well My Holmes I had hoped to keep this civilized but you have left me with no other choice." He says, turning to address the men behind him. "Arthur, Bart, kill John Watson."

"NO!" I cry but I am already much too late because a terrifying transformation is rippling through the two men. It is rather unpleasant to watch because it appears as though their bodies are tearing apart with bones and muscles dislocating and realigning with wet popping and cracking sounds. One of the men lets out a scream of pain that becomes a roar as sharp fangs force their way through his new elongated jaws. All the while their bodies are re-shaping themselves their skin has been melting away. I swallow and choke back a strong feeling of revulsion but instead of exposed bones hard red scales are appearing all over their bodies. There is a final wet crack while horns burst through the top of their heads before, finally, the transformation is complete and a five foot high dragon with two heads stands before me. I gape at them. Well I hadn't been expecting that. I look at Moran for an explanation but he shrugs, turning away. Bart and Arthur snarl and exhale twin torrents of flame that are so intense I am forced to take a step back before rounding on John, both of their eyes alight with cruelty.

"JOHN!" I shout. Oh god, this is all my fault. I fell to my knees and curse my helplessness because, come on what am I supposed to do against a bloody dragon? If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I wouldn't be able to believe the existence of the creature before me. There have been rumors of shape-shifters but I had never thought the story could actually be true.

Almost with no effort at all the dragon reaches down and entangles its claws in John's hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. It licks its lips as though savoring the moment before finally, lightning fast, the dragon sinks its fangs into John's shoulder. John cries out and I wince, able to hear bones crunching. Throwing caution to the wind I run forward with a yell of rage. The dragon doesn't even look at me. One moment I am running towards it and the next I am flying backward after a side swipe from its tail. I land badly and hear a crack as my arm twists unnaturally beneath me. Instantly I feel pain flare through my shoulder and have to grit my teeth to prevent myself from crying out in pain. I sit still for a moment and wait for the arm to begin to heal. 'Thank god for the unique abilities gifted to us winged humans' I think as I struggle back to my feet and turn once more to face the dragon.

Since my brief (and unplanned) flight across the roof John's situation has grown worse with the dragon now tearing chunks of flesh out of his chest with its claws, leaving gaping bloody holes and exposed ribs. Already I can see the wounds are beginning to knit back together but as quickly as they are the dragon is making new ones until John is kneeling in a small lake of his own blood. I remain rooted to the spot, breathing deeply and desperately trying to think of a solution. Nothing comes and I hang my head with a quiet groan. Taking my eye off the dragon wasn't my greatest of ideas. I hear John cry out my name, my head jerking up in response. The dragon towers above me, its cruel eyes looking down at me, as it rests the point of a single claw against my chest and gently begins to push. Because of the dragon's enormous strength it is easy for it to stab the claw through my skin and into the bone beneath. Almost immediately blood begins to pump from the wound. A grin spreads over the dragon's face and it pushes a little harder. It is now that the pain hits me in a white hot wave that forces me to my knees and causes black spots to dance in my vision. My breathing becomes ragged and I briefly flash back to the torture I had endured in the hands of the Scientist.

The next moment the claw is gone and I slump to my knees, trying to cry out in pain while coughing blood. Panic floods through me. Drowning in my own blood is not how I envisioned dying. The breathlessness continues for a few more minutes but then, slowly, my vision clears a little and breathing becomes easier as my torn windpipe knits itself back together. Weakly I look up and am surprised by what I see. The dragon is cowering down with its claws curled protectively over its heads while Moran lays into it.

"What the hell were you thinking? I told you to kill John Watson not Sherlock! We still need the detective alive you stupid great reptile." Moran screams, fire spitting from his nostrils.

Hesitantly, not wanting to draw attention to myself and also because being stabbed really, really hurts, I crawl across to John who stirs and gives me a weak smile. "Are you okay?" I ask somewhat pointlessly. I am well able to see the open wounds covering his body. From how every breath he takes is shallow I can tell John is in a great deal of pain. Gently I lay a hand on his forehead, smearing it with my blood. "It'll be okay."

John's reply is drowned out by a loud howl. I notice the dragon stiffen and scan the surrounding rooftops with fear in its eyes before bolting upwards with frantic wing beats. Moran follows close behind and glances over his shoulder in order to deliver a final warning. "This isn't over Mr Holmes. My Master will have you be his side."

The howl comes again, this time from directly behind us and John's eyes widen in fear. Despite the pain I somehow manage to spread wings over us like a shield and half rise, preparing myself to fight should the need arise. I feel hot breath on the back of my neck. Slowly I begin to turn to face the creature behind me but am knocked sprawling when a heavy weight lands on my chest. I scream in pain when the movement jolts my already injured chest and it is all I can do to hold back the yellowing fangs snapping inches from my throat.

It takes almost all the strength I have to hold the creature at bay and even then I am barely winning against it. From what I can tell as I grapple with it the creature is humunoid in shape and is covered with thick, soft fur. Not that I'm really focusing much on its appearence right at this moment. From nearby I hear John cry out in fear followed by a fierce growl. Damn, of course there had to be more of the things. Desperate to get to John to check if he is alright I fight harder against the creature pinning me to the ground but my efforts soon prove futile. With my wings trapped beneath me I am effectivly just as helpless as any human.

"John!" I yell, managing to push the creature away enough to catch a glimpse of his terrified face as he is surrounded by more of the creatures on all sides.

The creature holding me down stops and gazes down at me with brown eyes which contain an unmistakable spark of humanity. I gasp when it stands up on its hind legs, revealing it to be a human shaped wolf, grateful for the absence of its crushing weight. The creature offers me a clawed hand and after a moments deliberation I take it and allow myself to be pulled to my feet. I brush myself down, dismayed at the dirt and grime streaking my coat. "You know you really need to look before you just go charging in Lestrade." I say with a smile.

Behind me I hear John's sharp intake of breath. "Hang on, what?" He stutters, sounding confused. I am not surprised he is finding it difficult to take it. It was rather a shock for me when I first discovered Lestrade's secret and the revelation that winged humans aren't the only oddities and freaks out there. "I don't understand."

Lestrade's lupine features crease into a smile, (well technically a snarl because smiling is difficult for wolves). "Hello John. I can imagine this has come as a slight shock. Well I suppose the cat is out of the bag now." He pauses for a moment, a frown on his face, and pricks his ears up to listen to the noises of the night. Obviously what he hears isn't overly alarming because he turns back to John and continues talking. "As you can see John I am a were-wolf."

John looks rather faint. "Oh." He says in a small voice. "Great. So now there are winged humans, were-wolves and huge, great bloody dragons roaming the streets of London. Tell me are there any other surprises I should be aware of?" He asks, his voice rising to the point of being hysterical.

Lestrade shrugs and briefly glances over in my direction with an apologetic smile. "No that's about it... well about from the sea serpent that lives in the Thames but he's rather shy and doesn't really show his face very much." He says calmly before an alarmed expression settles over his face. "Hang on, did you say something about a dragon?"

As it was plain that the night was rapidly becoming too much for even an ex-soldier to cope with I decided to step in and tell Lestrade about the shape-shifter we had met. Throughout the retelling he remains silent, only occasionally making a small noise when I mention the Master of the city. Once I have finished he taps a claw against his chin as he considered what I have just told him. "This is bad." He says. "This is really bad. The Master of the city hasn't been heard of for months and I though that the dragon shape-shifters were pratically extinct."

I had thought the same but after the meeting tonight I was revising everything I knew about the dragon shape-shifters. "I know. You don't need to tell me how bad this whole thing is." I say in answer, running a hand through my hair. I wince when the movement jolts the stab wound that is still knitting itself back together.

Lestrade's furry brows furrow in concern. "Are you okay? I noticed the blood but wasn't sure it was yours or John's." Behind him the moon is obscured by thick cloud cover, casting dark shadows across the roof and the pack of werewolves shifting painfully back into their human forms.

I wave a hand dismissivly and instantly regret the movment when pain floods through me. Gritting my teeth I hiss in pain. Okay, so I won't be doing that again in a hurry. Lestrade steps forward and places a hand tipped with claws on my shoulder. He looks a little hurt when I shrug him off. "Of course some of it is mine." I snap, irritated. "I was just almost killed by a bloody dragon! Also you owe me another coat." I say as I take it off and gaze mournfully at it. The thick material had held up well under the assault from the dragon but Lestrade's claws had been too much for it. I feel a brief but quickly push it aside. Though the coat and I had been through a lot together I can easily get another one.

Lestrade glances down at the rooftop. "Yes I'm sorry about that. But when I recieved reports of a disturbance by the Houses of Parliment I came running. I didn't really have time to asses the situation." He looks up at me again with a thoughtful expression on his face. "So the self styled Master of the city has returned." He muses, staring off into the distance over the brightly lit streets of London, before shaking his head. "And here was me hoping for a quiet couple of days."

I give him a weary smile. "When have you ever known London to be quiet?" I ask. Lestrade nods distractedly in response. Behind me I hear John clear his throat and I wince. How could I have forgotten about him? Slowly I turn to face him. In the few minutes since I last saw him his wounds have healed well and are no longer life threatening. However there is a rather unpleasant greenish tinge to his face and his eyes are heavy, almost as though he has been drugged. I frown and take a step towards him. "John?" I ask a little hesistantly, "Are you okay?"

John sways a little as he shakes his head. "I feel a little odd." He murmurs. I am alarmed by how weak his voice sounds. By now, like me, with his natural healing ablility he should be well on the road to recovery. Instead he looks worse than after he had just been attacked by the dragon shape-shifter. Dread clutches at me. Suddenly something I had read about dragons came back to me and I swore loudly.

Lestrade started and stared at me with wide eyes. "What is it? What's wrong?" He demanded, his voice full of concern.

I take a deep breath to compose myself, shoving down the panic which is trying to flood through me and disrupt my calm thoughts. "Even though dragons shifters aren't supposed to exist I have read a great deal about them. They are highly dangerous and not just because of their sharp claws, teeth and their ablility to breathe fire but also because some of them are able to inject poison into those who they attack." I say quickly, painfully aware of John's rapidly deterioating health. His wings are hanging limply, his wingtips dragging on the ground which is a sure sign a winged human isn't feeling very well. That and the fact violent shivers have begun to run through his limbs. Lestrade's eyes narrow in confusion and I roll my eyes. Why did other creatures of the shadows have to be so unobservant? It was miracle really that more people weren't murdered in the great city of London. "John was bitten." I explain patiently in a slow voice.

Lestrade's eyes widen and his mouth falls open. "You mean...oh god will he be okay?" He gasps. Some of the other werewolves in his...team?...pack?... glance over when they hear their leader's worried tone and growl under their breaths. Lestrade waves a hand in their direction and they quickly step down. "Is there anything we can do?" He looks startled when I throw back my head and give voice to a hollow, humourless laugh. "Sherlock, what is it?"

I shake my head, unable to believe I could have been so stupid. "Oh very clever Moran, this must have been what you were planning all along." I mutter under my breath. I begin to pace, the werewolves parting to allow me through. "Very clever Master of the city, you have won this round but next time I will be ready for you." On the very edge of the roof I stop and stare down at the few cars making their way through the streets. To think that all the humans down there had no idea what lived within the shadows of the world. I stretch out my wings to their full extent and smile when I feel I light breeze play through my feathers. I wouldn't give up flying for anything- not even to rejoin the ordinary world of sunlight. I sigh and feel sadness wash through me. It was just a shame that the shadow world was so complicated. Behind me I hear John cry out. Without even stopping to think about my next move I bring my wings down hard and lift into the air. Easily, gracefully I twist in midair and manage to catch John before he hits the hard concrete surface of the roof.

Lestrade clears his throat. "Sherlock, what is it?" He repeats, his voice commanding and a little strained. "I know that look, you're planning to do something incredibly reckless which might get you killed. If you don't tell me, so help me Sherlock I will post a permanant guard to follow your every move."

I ignore him for a moment and concentrate on carefully lowering John down. He looks awful and the panic I have been desperatly keeping at bay finally breaks free. What if he dies? What will I do without him? I breathe deeply but it doesn nothing to dispel the worry clouding my thoughts. "There is an antidote to dragon poison ." Lestrade's face brightens a little but I shake my head. "No, it may sound like a good thing but the antidote involves the dragon itself actually healing you. In order to save John I will have to willingly find Sebastian Moran and ask for his help and I can guarentee that it will come with a very high price."

Around me the pack of werewolves stop what they are doing and all turn to stare in my direction. Lestrade crosses his arms and frowns at me. "You're completly mad Sherlock. Surely that is the one thing you shouldn't do. If the Master of the city got his hands on you..." He trails off, not needing to finish his sentence because I know exactly what asking for the antidote will mean. "Won't you at least wait long enough to think of a plan? Maybe my team and I will be able to help you."

I am already shaking my head. "Thanks for the offer but no. I'll be able to move around the city quicker than you can. "Anyway," I point up towards the sky where the moon is finally coming out from behind the clouds. The effect when the silvery moonlight falls on Lestrade is abrupt and a little terrifying. One moment I am faced with a slightly furry human and the next by a rather savage looking half wolf, half human. I won't have a better chance of getting away. I take a step back towards John, already unfurling my wings in preparation of flight, and ignore Lestrade's question about what I think I am doing. Trying not to make any sudden moves I bend down and gather John's limp body to my chest. His skin is already incredibly hurt, a sure sign that the dragon poison has begun its work. According to what I have read the poison is fast acting, which means I do not have time to hang around and come up with a plan. Before Lestrade can say another word I take off and disappear into the night.


End file.
